


Fragments of Shattered Glass

by Xekstrin



Category: RWBY
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:10:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xekstrin/pseuds/Xekstrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots that never received a proper title. Each chapter will have warnings if relevant to the content of that chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crescent Rose/Ruby

**Author's Note:**

> What if Crescent Rose came alive?

"I didn’t steal your scythe," the woman said, cautiously lowering her hood to meet her eyes. Ruby got a good look at her for the first time, unsettled by a sudden rush of deja vu. She looked familiar, somehow, though Ruby couldn’t match a name to the face. 

She wasn’t going to be swayed by just that. Talk was cheap. “Then who did? All the signs point to you!” Pointing an accusing finger at her, Ruby began to advance, bristling with energy. She wasn’t as good a hand-to-hand fighter as Yang, but she wasn’t about to back down now that she had finally caught up to her. “You were sneaking around campus the night it went missing, and you’ve been slipping past us ever since! If you didn’t take Crescent Rose, then you know who did, and I’m gonna get that information one way or another!”

"Ruby!" How did she know her name? The woman took a few steps back, holding her hands up to show she was also unarmed. "You don’t understand. I didn’t take Crescent Rose— I am Crescent Rose!"

Ruby’s face scrunched in confusion, pausing mid-stride. The woman kept going, encouraged. “You built me in your second year at Signal! The way I was designed was to be strong enough to carry you, but light enough for you to carry me. When your crafts teacher saw my final design he said I was the most impractical weapon ever built in his shop, and Yang said if people should only use things that were practical, why hadn’t his wife divorced him yet?”

Despite herself, she snorted in laughter at the memory, holding both hands up to her face as she remembered. Not liking how encouraged this made the stranger look, Ruby did her best to frown, though she was more curious than anything else. “Lady… You’re crazy. And… Anyone could have over heard that!”

She fell quiet, looking at the floor. Searching for something else to prove who she was. And to be honest, Ruby wanted to know what she would find. When she met Ruby’s eyes again— they were gunmetal grey, not quite as silver as her own, but close— she said, “Your first night alone at Beacon, you went out to one of the rooftops and cried because you missed your mother.”

Shock, like a bucket of cold water, hit her and dragged her down. “Th… That doesn’t prove anything.”

"But it does!" Sounding pained, the woman— Crescent— held one hand over her heart, taking a few steps closer to Ruby. "Because I was the one who held you upright! Who you used to prop yourself up and walk back down the stairs! And I was the one at Summer’s grave, when you took on more beowolves than you should have, and you notched a mark on my haft for every kill that night." Pulling up the hem of her shirt, she displayed her bare ribs. It was too fast for Ruby to count how many marks were there, but she could recognize her own handiwork anywhere.

Staring at the woman in wonder, she let her continue, knowing more and more that, while impossible, what she said was beginning to sound like the truth. “And it was me who’s  _always_  been there, Ruby! And I don’t know how this happened, but I was scared and I ran away because I thought I could fix things.” Holding herself with both arms, she closed her eyes, bowing her head in shame. “But I should have known better than to think I alone would be better than the two of us, together.”

"…Crescent?" Ruby tested, and the woman snapped at attention, focusing on her with a cautious smile. Closing the distance between them and carefully taking her hand, Ruby could hardly believe the words that came out of her mouth. " _My_  Crescent Rose?”

"Yes," she said, exhausted, but beaming with radiant happiness at finally being recognized.

Joy. Pure, unfettered joy filled her as she squeezed the woman’s hand, feeling now what she should have known from the start. “My scythe!”

Pulling her into a tight hug, Crescent rocked her from side to side. “My huntress,” she sighed, with obvious adoration.


	2. Yang/Weiss, sparring match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yang and Weiss spar for a bit

Getting a face full of gym mat was not really how Weiss wanted to spend her morning, but here she was with Yang basically sitting on her, one fist in her hair and the other one with her arm twisted terribly behind her back.

"That was round three. I think I win."

Weiss grudgingly tapped out. Rolling off of her with a laugh, Yang bounced back up, hopping on the balls of her feet with her fists up in a defensive position. “Come on, one more! Let’s go. You actually managed to land a hit last time, you know?”

Climbing achingly to some sort of upright position, Weiss raised her fists up, signalling she was ready for another round. “Any more tips?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes on Yang’s constant movement. 

Darting forward, Yang lifted her knee up, whipping out with her foreleg in a quick roundhouse. Weiss stumbled out of the way, still remembering to keep her hands up— which helped when Yang started punching again, fingerless gloves tapping “lightly” on her abs and the side of her head. 

Yang dashed all around, bobbing just out of Weiss’s range. “You have shitty range. Your arms are teeny, you need to get in closer.”

"I’m  _trying_.”

She over extended; Yang grabbed her forearm, yanking her in close. “No, you’re trying to fight like you’ve got long arms.” Playfully wrapping her other arm around Weiss’ bare midriff, she squeezed her in close, twisted, and dipped her low.

She got more acquainted with Yang’s body in those few moments than she really wanted, both of them clad in little more than shorts and drenched sports bras. Sweat-slicked stomach muscles slid against hers; she felt her brain fog up, humid and strange. 

Weiss bopped her on the head for her efforts, so she unceremoniously let her go, dropping her on the floor. “Hey, how come you haven’t tried any uppercuts on me?” she wanted to know.

Weiss sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and glowering up at her. 

Yang beamed at her. “Then again, technically isn’t every punch you throw at me an uppercut?”

If she rolled her eyes any harder they might keep on rolling, out the door of the gym they were using, right onto the walkways of Beacon, straight back to her bed— where quite frankly she wished she was, instead of wrestling half naked with Yang at asscrack thirty in the morning.

Laughing and bending down, Yang  _bff_ ed the padded knuckles of her training gloves on Weiss’s forehead. “Aw, I’m sorry.” And then, before Weiss could understand what was happening, they were rolling in a pile of limbs and Yang had her in an arm lock. “But the match still isn’t over!”

Grunting in pain, Weiss pounded the floor with the flat of her free hand, tapping out as quick as she could. “How do you  _do_  that?” she gasped when Yang released her at last, lying down next to her and shaking with giggles. 

Propping herself up on one elbow, Yang grinned at her with a cheeky wink. “Years a practice, honey. If you wanna get on my level, or Blake’s level, or even Ruby, actually, is better at hand-to-hand than you—”

Weiss held up a hand for silence; Yang shushed.Looking too cheerful for her own good, Yang lay on her back, humming tunelessly while Weiss caught her breath. “I do want to thank you, though,” Weiss said after a while. “You didn’t have to do this.”

"Sure I do," Yang said. "Almost nobody wants to let me play around with them in the ring anymore. I was getting bored, and it’s cute how you don’t know anything."

Weiss narrowed her eyes at that. “…Regardless, I’m grateful, and if there’s any way I can help you in turn, please, do not hesitate to ask. I know you’re having trouble with one of your classes—”

Snapping her attention on her suddenly, Yang hovered over Weiss on all fours, eyes intent on her. “Oh! Let me touch your cheek! Please?”

Blinking and trying to figure that out, Weiss wiped her forearm across her forehead, trying to smear away some of the sweat threatening to seep into her eyes. “…What?”

"Your face…" Reaching out, Yang dragged her fingertips along Weiss’s jawline, the soft, unexpected intimacy once again sending that heavy fog to cloud up her thoughts. It happened when Yang touched her— not in rough joint locks or kicks or tackles, but in those common, friendly way she made her interest known. "…I like that shit."

Oh.


	3. Cinder & Ruby, "Clever Little Wolf Pup"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a running joke among my friends that we all want Cinder to step on us. So I flipped the script, and now Cinder is the one getting stepped on.

It wasn’t fair to say Ruby Rose didn’t think things through.

She was impulsive, yes, and on the outside all her plans came across as being made on the seat of her pants. But she thought things through— she reached conclusions faster than other people did, and picked the one most likely to succeed, and then she followed up.

Ruby’s problem was that once she saw a solution, she  _had_  to follow it through to it’s completion. It was like running down a twisting hallway, opening up each door as she passed. Each one had a different ending, a different method to reach her destination, and if she spotted one last minute that served her better she’d switch gears and barrel down that path instead, always thinking, always calculating. Doggedly tailing criminals across rooftops, leaping into dead air without second guessing her landing strategies, pummeling her opponents into the ground without pause, be it a fight to the death or a friendly sparring match.

Once a problem presented itself, she would find a goal and rush towards it. As long as it involved Crescent Rose being wielded at some point, Ruby didn’t know how to  _stop_  thinking things through. 

"You’re a clever little wolf pup, to sniff me out like that."

She pressed down harder onto the center of Cinder’s back, the sole of her boot impressing on the black fabric.

The older woman had her head turned, regarding Ruby with narrowed eyes and a thin smile. Amused by the novelty of defeat, perhaps, even with the edge of Crescent Rose hooked around her throat. All Ruby needed to do was pull the trigger and the recoil would take care of the rest— or maybe just push down a little, shift her heel up to stomp down on Cinder’s neck.

A bead of sweat built up on Cinder’s forehead, hands flat on the floor to keep her upper body off the ground, away from the blade.

For the first time in her life, Ruby drew a blank.


	4. Ruby/Yang "Burning Rose" combat move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burning Rose combo! Guaranteed to make everyone in the room sweaty and uncomfortable. No joke, tho, I bet Ruby and Yang started the combo naming. And when RWBY began practicing them Ruby insisted against Weiss' "eins, zwei, drei" proposal. "I'm the leader and I say we have cool, cute attack names!" TW: Incest.

It was meant to be a companion to the bumblebee move. At the end, Yang would use her momentum and Blake’s ribbon to essentially launch Ruby like a giant spinning top of death. Ruby would go, morph Crescent Rose into its war scythe mode, strike the target with the combined energy of all three of them, and then bounce right back.

They drilled and drilled, each time Ruby failing to ricochet or the bumblebee not building up enough inertia for the idea to work. When they got it right it was almost a surprise, Yang catching her on the backswing and digging her heels firmly into the ground of the training field. They skid back a few yards— they’d have to work on that— and Ruby almost lost her grip on her sister a few times so they wound up tangled in each other until they finally came to a halt.

Held by the waist, Ruby was high enough that she could curl her legs back and have her feet not touch the floor with almost no discernable change in Yang’s grip. The brawler was more than strong enough to keep her balance with Ruby in her arms. and Ruby was sweating and panting and grinning.

"Wow Yang," she said, arms looped around her sister’s neck, "You were incredible! That was so great, I can’t believe we finally did it!"

"Y-yeah, it was pretty awesome." Yang agreed because hey, it  _was_  pretty awesome. She’d basically caught a human boomerang.

"Let’s do it again!"

"I don’t… I think the landing needs a little work. What if we were on the edge of a cliff, or something?"

"Well, that’s why we practice!"

And Yang insisted that no, maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe it was a bad move. In fact, Yang definitely felt it was a bad move, especially since she was still pressed up tight against her, Ruby’s sweating palms sliding down her exposed shoulders. Why hadn’t she worn her jacket today? Everything was suddenly incredibly warm.

Blake just watches like….

 _These_  two.


	5. Cinder/Emerald, "Your School Uniform Is Cute"

"They changed the uniform," Cinder notes with some surprise, turning in her seat to cast you a brief look. Plans are laid out before her on her desk. They’d taken up her attention for too long, and you warm up to know her eyes are on you again. Her eyes, tinged with shadows from lack of sleep and stress, are drawn down to your bare thighs. Showing just a little too much skin for a school girl. You’d been in enough private schools to know how to skate the rules; though you hadn’t trimmed the hem, all it took was to roll up the waistband of your skirt a few times to get it as short as you liked it. "The skirt is pushing things but you’ll be fine. They’ve gotten lax about enforcing that. You’re breaking a few rules with that shirt, though. Roll down your sleeves or you’ll have a hall monitor lecturing you on your first day."

Rolling your eyes, you pull them down. “Thanks, _mom_.”

"If you call me that again," she says, "I’m biting out your tongue."

That’s not an idle threat. It’s tucked away into the back of your mind. Still, you’re frustrated that she’s all business today. Getting scrutinized this early for “believability” wasn’t your idea of a good time. You’re surprised she doesn’t make you do the finger test on your skirt, and tell her so.

"We had a different system in place when I went to school there," she says. "If the teacher thought your skirt was too short, she’d make you kneel while she brought out a ruler to measure the length from the ends down your legs."

"Bet you loved that."

"There’s a reason I didn’t stay." Reaching out, she grasps you by the wrist. Her grip is so tight, you’re always surprised by how much strength is in that thin arm. Something in her semblance, maybe, or maybe it’s just you. Maybe you’re just weak. She pulls you onto her lap without resistance and you sit there, burning under her touch as her fingers slide up your thighs, inching underneath the fabric. "Never much liked being the one to kneel."

 

 


	6. (Cinder/Neo) Cat That Licked the Sinnamon Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinder/Neo

Cinder upended a bucket of water over Neo’s head to snap her out of it.

Shivering, Neo felt the world rush back to her the way you see street lights fly by from the window of a moving car. She stood outside the complex, her joints stiff and her clothes crackling with every idle movement, caked with dried mud. The scent of old blood hit her nose at once, and Cinder stood in front of her with a decidedly unpleased expression.

She didn’t know where she had been.

“Get inside.”

Neo followed the order without thinking, following the chime of glass heels on concrete until she was in the stark, tiled bathroom the four of them shared. Five, before Roman had gone.

The water was tepid but Cinder’s hands were warm, a block of hard white soap passing over her through her clothing. Red clay threatened to block the drains, the pigment of old earth looking like blood flowing from her in rivulets.

“Tell me you at least knew where you went this time,” Cinder said, impatiently plucking at Neo’s clothes with swipes of glass. She had them woven into her dresses, filaments as long as her arm, supple-thin and razor sharp. They could be summoned at a moment’s notice– or left there to punish the unwary, anyone who dared rest a hand on Cinder when she did not explicitly permit it.

Each movement was controlled, her clothes cut by the seams in perfect slices until she was stripped naked. Neo kicked away the scraps; they weren’t worth trying to salvage. They’d probably get burned later in case they were evidence. 

The water heated up a bit. “This is strike two, Neo.”

Grabbing her by her shoulder, Cinder spun Neo around, jerking her chin up to see if she was paying attention. She was– barely– eyes still glazed over and a faint smile toying at the edges of her lips. 

“What was Roman thinking when he brought you here?” Cinder wondered, not expecting a response. “You’re worse than a stray cat.”

“I’m more fun, though.” Neo spoke up, and obvious surprise stoked the hungry forge always smoldering behind the woman’s golden eyes. “If everyone were always in your control, you’d get bored.”

Idly, she reached up, stroking the hemline of Cinder’s dress with a single finger.

Sharp pain rewarded her, a warning prick on the calloused edge. Real blood trickled then, the cut on her index finger deep enough to send a shock of red coursing down her arm, spasmodically following the patterns of the water droplets still clinging to her skin. 

“Hard to teach a cat tricks,” Neo said, “Isn’t it?”

Cinder’s forearm pressed against her throat. Pushed back against the wall, Neo watched, thrilled, as the water streaming overhead stopped just short of touching Cinder, forming a halo of steam from the rippling heat she emitted. 

“Then let’s try again,” Cinder said, and pressed hard enough to block Neo’s windpipe.


	7. Arslan & Yang & Pyrrha, platonic bonding

**A/N:** Another patron request! This one is Arslan, Yang, and Pyrrha hanging out together and bonding.

Don’t forget if you want me to write for you, all you have to do is [**pledge me a dollar!**](https://www.patreon.com/xekstrin)

 

* * *

 

The door squeaked open and Arslan sighed a breath of relief to see her room hadn’t exploded yet. It was her turn to have the room to herself, and even though she’d made Bolin swear three times over he’d get the other two out for the day, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find them all lounging in their pajamas with a box of pizza open in front of them.

“Come on in,” she said, opening it a bit wider and stepping inside. She gestured around, feeling suddenly very shy. “This is home. For now.”

“Dang.” Ducking her head to avoid the frame, Yang peered around the room in open curiosity. “They give the transfer students nice digs.”

It was twice the size of the standard dorm rooms for the regular students, though from the looks of it they didn’t have a private bathroom. There were plenty of common areas to handle the entire student body and then some, but Arslan privately missed her bathtub more than she missed her own bed.

Pyrrha joined in last, a messenger bag clutched tight to her chest. Her summer dress swung loosely around her toned legs as she pulled off her hat, stuffing it inside the bag as well. “I’m sure they want them to be comfortable since they’re so far from their school.”

Arslan shrugged. “Wish I could show you how we do hospitality back home. They don’t force students to stick to the dorms if they don’t want to, so we have our own place.”

Flinging herself onto one of the beanbags scattered on the floor, Yang made herself comfortable. “That’s how it was at Signal! Ruby and I would just take the bus to school every day.”

“Vale is a little conservative for my tastes,” Pyrrha agreed, and then pulled a bottle from her messenger bag. “But… at least the drinking age is the same.”

Yang gasped, clapping her hands to her cheeks. “Pyrrha! You naughty girl!”

Her cheeks turned pink. “It’s nothing very strong, just a bottle of wine. My cousins own a distillery back home, so…”

Arslan extended a hand, fingers twitching eagerly. “Let me crack it open for ya!”

It was just barely enough to get the three of them tipsy, but that was more than fine. Pyrrha insisted it aided with digestion, and Yang agreed, sprawled out on the floor with her hands on her stomach. “So was the noodle place good or was it good?”

“It was great,” Arslan said. “I can’t believe you caused such a fuss over the hot sauce though.”

Yang sat up, crossing her legs at the knee and picking her plastic cup off the floor. “Because you need to at least try the food you’re served before you dump junk all over it! What would you think, if you had cooked for me and I slathered it with ketchup before taking a single bite?”

Perched on the edge of her bed, Arslan pursed her lips and thought about it. “I would think, _wow, this girl really likes ketchup_.”

“That’s not rude where you come from!?”

Arslan shook her head, and Pyrrha had to agree with her.

“Great,” Yang said, taking another sip of wine. “I’m outnumbered.”

“I’m glad we ditched the team meetings, though,” Arslan said. “Half the leaders didn’t even show up.”

“Jaune is sick.” Pyrrha quickly came to his defense. “He literally couldn’t come! That’s why I was stepping in.”

“And Jaune got Ruby sick,” Yang said. “But hey, you got free noodles out of it!” She crumpled her cup in her hand once she was done with it, keeping her eyes carefully away from the transfer student. “I mean, it’s the least I could do.”

Arslan shrugged. “Your team won and mine lost. That’s just how it goes in tournaments.”

Making a face, Pyrrha refilled her glass to the top. “You would think that would go without saying.”

“Oh!” Yang sat up straight, wiggling closer to the bed so she could bump her forehead against Pyrrha’s knees. “Ohh, man! I sense some drama! Tell it all, I’m feeling gossipy.”

Pausing only to take another sip of her wine, Pyrrha made a big show of considering her words. Arslan wondered if she was mentally translating from Mistrali, or if she was just being diplomatic. The girl was so reserved, Arslan wondered how she’d even become friends with a firecracker like Yang. Arslan sensed it had something to do with Pyrrha being in the public eye more than it had to do Pyrrha, personally.

“Well, I brought this wine as an apology for someone else.” She decided on that. “It’s tradition, where we come from. But, he did not accept. So now we can drink it. That’s all.”

Yang dragged her hands down her face. “That doesn’t tell me anything!”

“It tells you what you need to know.” She patted her cheek. “I can’t spell it out for you, my friend.”

“You have to, though!” Getting to her knees, Yang slapped both palms to Pyrrha’s thighs in an alternating pattern, rattling it like a drum beat. “Team Mom!”

Pyrrha’s eyes widened. “You can’t use Team Mom on me for respecting someone else’s privacy!”

“I can and I will! Team Mom rules!”

Pyrrha grit her teeth, setting her cup down to catch Yang by both her wrists. “Stop that.”

“Nyeh.” She stuck her tongue out at her.

“Do I even want to know.” Arslan said, eyebrows raising as she mumbled around the rim of her cup.

Twisting around, Yang casually tried to break free of Pyrrha’s hold while explaining. “Oh, it’s just our nickname! You know how every friend group, has, like, a mom friend?” She twisted around, criss crossing Pyrrha’s arms and leaning back. It didn’t quite work, and she just wound up with Pyrrha hugging her from behind. “When someone else doesn’t do their chores and needs to be nagged, or they’re feeling down and need someone to talk to…”

Arslan had a feeling she did know, quite well. “Okay.”

“Anyway, that’s Pyrrha and I. So we’re Team Mom!” She wriggled forward, but Pyrrha still had her caught. “And Team Mom tells all and hides none! _Pyrrha_!” she added pointedly.

“It’s just an old classmate of mine who is bitter I defeated him in combat,” Pyrrha said. “You’re making it to be bigger than it really is. There’s nothing to ‘spill’.”

“Sounds like evasion to me.”

“Sounds like someone can’t hold their alcohol.” Letting her go, Pyrrha pinched her cheek and shook it. “You’re being extra silly today in front of our new friend.”

Grinning toothily, Arslan just sat back and downed the rest of her cup. “I don’t mind. It’s nice to hang out with someone outside the team, you know?”

“Oh yeah,” Yang said.

“Why do you think we even formed ‘Team Mom’?” Pyrrha added.

“So you can drink and gripe about your baby team members at each other?” Arslan guessed.

“That’s not quite--” Pyrrha started.

“HELL YEAH,” Yang agreed, sliding over to give Arslan a high five. “Am I reading the wrong signals here, or are you feeling Team Mom, Arslan?”

“If it means I can hang out with you two more often,” Arslan said, “Then… maybe. And maybe next week we can ditch the team meetings again?”

“I could bake cookies and we can hang out by the lake,” Yang offered.

“But you bought me lunch today,” Arslan protested. “I’ll bring something.”

“Yeah, but--”

“Stop trying to out-mom each other,” Pyrrha said. “Let’s all bring something. Okay?”

Yang drained the last of the bottle in one go. “Yeah!”


	8. Yang & Qrow (Bonding Over Semblance; PLATONIC)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang realizing Raven is her biological mother because semblance is hereditary

Shouting in joy, he opened up his arms and Yang leapt up for him to catch her.

Swinging her around in a hug so fierce her feet never touched the ground, Qrow laughed. “Did you see that?! Oh, man, Yang! You’re just like me! You’re just like your old crow!”

Secured with her arms around his neck, Yang was nearly delirious with joy, and pride.

And then she paused, the smile frozen on her face.

Then she burst into tears, burying her head into the crook of his neck.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa!” He set her down, a steadying hand on her shoulder and his calloused fingers tilting up her chin. “Did you get hurt? What’s wrong?”

“I-it’s true,” she said, wiping away at her face furiously, “I always knew it was true but this made it true. I don’t want it. I don’t want your semblance. I don’t want _hers_.”

Qrow couldn’t help a twisted little grin, despite the circumstances. “What, me telling you didn’t make it true?”

She stomped right down, her heel on the top of his booted foot. “Shut up, uncle Qrow! You know what I mean!”

It didn’t hurt at all, though she’d just torn a tree right from its roots in a fit of newfound semblance. But she wasn’t crying anymore, and for that he was glad.

She thought it was over, and it would never hurt again. And for the most part she was right.

The only other time it felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest was later that year, when Ruby entered Signal as a freshman and rose petals scattered at her feet


End file.
